The snow had grown deeper
since the night before, and Elrond led his guest down pathways few had trod
that morning. One path led to a closed gate behind the ruins of the burned
stable - ruins that both Legolas and Elrond tried to avoid looking at, lest
they see too much death among the blackened and still-smoking wood that once
offered safe shelter to loyal friends within.

"You'll be doing much
coughing today," Elrond offered after Legolas had surrendered to the paroxysmal
fit threatening his every breath in the cold air.

Wheezing on his way, Legolas
had to pause twice more to accommodate his lungs. "I hate this."

"I know you do. Look,
the new stable is being erected over there." The elf-lord pointed to distract
the slighter elf at his side. "A few walls are already in place, and that
is where we are headed. I am shamed to admit that Imladris had no plan in
case of such a fire. A meeting will be held after the stable is completed
to form such a plan - who will enter if there is another fire and get them
safely out, where they will be taken afterward."

"That's good, albeit a
bit late for those who died." Legolas was horrified to realize he'd let down
his guard enough to voice his thoughts aloud. "I am sorry, my lord Elrond.
I spoke in haste and tactlessly."

"But with great honesty,
reflecting my own judgment of my own incompetence." That long arm snaked around
Legolas's shoulders once more.

Legolas didn't know how
to reply to that assessment, much less how to respond to the touch that seemed
to creep out whenever Elrond thought reassurance or comfort was needed. Falling
into a wheezing silence, Legolas ignored his confusion and concentrated on
reaching the half-constructed stables without coughing his lungs out again
on the way.

Elrond released him only
when they had reached the construction site. Hailing Glorfindel, he went immediately
to the temporary paddock housing the smallest of the fire's victims. The weanlings
watched their approach with little of the usual bright curiosity of foals,
their expressions reflecting exhaustion and confusion at the turmoil that
hat turned their young lives upside down the night before.

"How are they?" Elrond
asked, low and urgent. Legolas stood close at his side, no less eager for
Glorfindel's update.

"Last spring's foals are
lowest to the ground; they are mostly all right," Glorfindel revealed. "The
biddable mares I saved are also mostly all right. As for the stallions and
the geldings..." He grimaced. "Many are not so all right. I'm sorry, Elrond,
but the smoke took those sections first so that their exposure was longer
and the damage is greater."

Glorfindel turned his
attention to Legolas. "None of us could know this and you could not have prevented
it, young one, so don't even try to presume any guilt over those we're bound
to lose over the next few days, hmm?"

"We, all of us, did our
best," said Elrond sadly. Legolas could have sworn the elf-lord was leaning
into him, was trying to offer the same sort of physical comfort as could be
seen between two horse-friends.

[Surely that's my imagination.
Perhaps he only needs the contact as Glorfindel shares the worst of the news?]

"Go on," Elrond said quietly.

"Some are coughing already,
and the outlook is hopeless," Glorfindel continued with obvious reluctance.
"We're sending them on over the next hour."

"What of Assassin?"

Glorfindel was silent
for a long moment. "I think you need to see him for yourself."

Breaking away from the
fence, he led the way to a corner of the new stable, where a stall had been
hastily erected and a rough-plank roof offered some shelter from the wind
and the snow. Joining Elrond and Glorfindel at the stable wall, Legolas looked
inside to see Elrond's foundation sire standing and coughing with his head
held low.

"Not you, too," Elrond
murmured.

This time, it was Legolas
who sought to offer some comfort by leaning into Elrond. The gesture went
unnoticed as the elf-lord quickly unlatched the door and stepped inside the
stall. Turning toward his owner, Assassin stretched out his neck and nuzzled
Elrond's hand. Long fingers rubbed the velvet muzzle, combed through the long
white mane and rubbed at the lop-sided ears where they hung lax in exhaustion.

The stallion closed his
eyes, surrendering his brief pose of strength as his breathing only grew more
labored. His panting efforts to breathe rocked his entire frame forward and
back with the fight to draw air into closing lungs. When he coughed again,
thick black snot dripped from his nostrils. He was far from the fierce, fighting
creature Legolas had met the night before.

"He is proud, Elrond,
and very ill. You know that this is only the beginning. I recommend...."

"You recommend that we
remember him as he was and send him on with dignity before none is left to
him," Elrond said, his expression tight and pained as he gave voice to the
words Glorfindel could not bring himself to speak.

"Yes."

[We are not having this,]
Legolas thought.

"Excuse me, Lord Glorfindel,"
he rasped. Pushing past the Elf, Legolas let himself into the stall. Coming
up beside Elrond, he combed through Assassin's mane to find Elrond's fingers.
Wrapping his own around them, Legolas pulled the elf-lord's hands free and
turned him away from the stallion.

"Explain this to me,"
Legolas murmured, demanding that the elf-lord focus on him, rather than on
Elrond's own despair. "Make me understand the damage, so that a way might
be found to repair it."

He heard Glorfindel's
deep sigh and felt rather than saw him move away from the stall. [You've given
up and so yes, you need to leave. Leave the two of us together and let me
center your lord by discussing the facts,] thought Legolas. [Let Elrond detach
a little and think like a healer for a moment, rather than as Assassin's friend.]

Choking down his tears,
Elrond struggled to gather his words and answer. "The fire-smoke was hot enough
to burn Assassin's throat and airways, just as it did yours. He and some of
the others were in the fire longer than were you, which has resulted in serious
breathing problems."

"What problems?"

"Assassin is not burned,
though others probably are. Glorfindel has gone to put them down. As for my
stallion, he is in severe respiratory distress; there is already upper airway
obstruction."

The elf-lord tried to
turn back to his friend. Catching his arm, Legolas guided him back around.

"In simple words, Elrond,
what does that mean?"

"Assassin is experiencing
the same thing you are, but to a greater degree. His airways cannot work properly
to sweep dust, debris, and excess mucus from his lungs. Consequently, it has
accumulated in his respiratory tract. While you are expelling it, Assassin
is not.

"Additionally, the natural
lubricant that normally keeps the sides of his lungs from sticking together
and collapsing has been compromised, which means his lungs may collapse. Already,
it is difficult for him to breathe. He is choking and his lungs are probably
filling with fluid."

Legolas closed his eyes
briefly at the description of the horse's suffering, feeling it mirrored in
his own burning lungs. The harsh bark of Assassin's cough struck him almost
as a physical blow.

"It is not your fault
you couldn't save them all, and Assassin was the last to come out."

Legolas narrowed his eyes.
"Do you want to send him on?"

"No."

"Then don't give up on
him yet," Legolas pleaded. "He waited for me, he wouldn't leave his stall
without me. I survived because he carried me. He deserves to live."

"He cannot live if he
cannot breathe!"

Legolas's lungs claimed
him in a coughing fit, one that drove him to the far corner of the stall to
spit a disgusting mess into the bedding. Bracing his head against the wall
and wheezing slightly, he said with quiet obstinacy, "Then we shall have to
ensure that Assassin and the others continue to breathe."

"They do, but my breathing
is improving, thanks to your skill as a healer. Assassin and I suffered the
fire together, suffered the same injuries. If you can heal my lungs, why not
his? Treat him as you have treated me. That--that balrog piss has already
started working for me; it's worth trying with him, isn't it? Give him that
chance."

Elrond stood silently
for a moment, then lifted his head to meet Legolas's intense gaze. The despair
was being slowly replaced with determination as he nodded. "We will give him
his chance. We shall work together, you and I, to save Assassin and the others."

"Yes, together," Legolas
rasped, pushing away from the wall. "We should move them somewhere warmer,
out of the cold until the stable is finished. The cold air makes it much harder
to breathe. Fire up as many braziers as the households of Imladris can spare
and treat everyone with balrog piss."

Elrond laughed in spite
of himself. "The Hall of Fire might accommodate such an invasion."

Legolas looked up in surprised.
"You would do that? You would take them indoors?"

"There will be a fuss
from the Elves serving my household, but yes, it's the best place for them.
As you say, they need warmth and shelter to rest. I shall command it, and
all of Imladris will obey," Elrond concluded, only half-joking.

Legolas nodded and fought
off another coughing fit as he followed Elrond from the stall. The orders
were given and Legolas had the pleasure of seeing Glorfindel grin and nod
at him.

[Well done,] that nod
seemed to say, regardless many of the Elves scurrying to help looked as if
they thought their master had gone mad.

"Into the Hall of Fire
with the lot of them," Glorfindel agreed. "We'll get a fire blazing on the
hearth and round up the necessary braziers and cauldrons. I'll see to boiling
water for steam while you prepare a vast amount of that evil herbal concoction."

Elrond looked down at
Legolas. "Will you help Glorfindel move the horses while I begin the brew
to ease their breathing?"

"Of course."

Elrond left the makeshift
stable while Legolas moved toward Assassin's stall. Without thinking, he left
the door open and stepped within to wind his fingers in the stallion's mane.

"Will you walk with me
to a place of warmth and healing? One that smells like your master, where
he will always be near?"

The stallion lifted his
head from where it hung near the straw, and his eyes lost some of the glassy
look they'd had only moments before as he turned to touch Legolas's arm with
his black-streaked, mucus-coated muzzle. The elf paused to wipe some of it
away with his fingers, scraping it off into the bedding.

"We will heal this," he
murmured reassuringly to the horse. "Your master knows what to do. He'll make
it better. Be strong."

"Here now, what do you
think you're doing?" asked one of the grooms, darting into the stall after
Legolas. "No one but Elrond can handle him without a fight. Sick or no, it'll
take four of us just to battle him out of here."

The stallion's ears flattened.
Legolas let go the mane a moment before Assassin lunged and snapped his teeth
at the groom, who leaped backward out of the stall. A colorful stream of Elvish
curses blued the air as the groom landed on his butt. Backing up a step, Assassin
leaned against Legolas and blinked with deceptive passivism.

Assassin not only found
the strength to walk, he led the way from the stall.

"You might want to get
out of the way," Legolas said mildly to the groom who was now kneeling in
the dirt and rubbing his butt. Scrambling to his feet, the elf all but leaped
around the makeshift stall to relative safety.

Pushing against Assassin's
shoulder, Legolas guided him slowly across the field, through the open gate
with Glorfindel standing watchfully aside, and down the same path Elrond and
he had traveled earlier that morning.

"Where is the Hall of
Fire, exactly?" Legolas called over his shoulder.

"Turn right and take the
walled path back to the main courtyard," Glorfindel called from behind. "We'll
take them all in through the front door, down the central corridor and into
the hall proper."

So it was that Legolas
Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood, led Elrond's foundation stallion through
the front door of the Last Homely House just as Mithrandir was descending
its interior stairway in search of his late-morning meal. Stopping dead on
the stairs, the wizard gawked. Stallion hooves rang on the entry stones.

Legolas smiled but did
not stop. "Good morning, Mith. Did you sleep well?"

"I... er...." It took
a moment, but the gray wizard finally managed to recover himself enough to
gather his robes, descend the steps, and join Legolas as he and Assassin gained
the long corridor. "What, by all of Valinor, are you doing?"

"We're treating the injured
in the Hall of Fire."

Assassin spared this new
arrival a brief glance, then cleared his nostrils with a powerful snort, spraying
the shining floor of the halls with black mucus before turning to wipe his
nose on Legolas's tunic.

"Surely not. Does Lord
Elrond know you're mucking up his corridors?"

"I know all about it."
Elrond pushed back the huge ash doors leading into the Hall of Fire. "Tell
Erestor we need more water," he ordered the obviously disgruntled house-elf
hovering behind him.

"Good morning, by the
way," he addressed Mithrandir. "It's good to see you up and about." To Legolas
he said, "Take Assassin over there, by the fireplace where the kettles are
boiling. We are heating the balrog piss--" "WHAT?" Mithrandir all but roared.

"It's a long story, I'll
tell you later," inserted Legolas. Already, he could smell the herbal concoction,
feel its oils being carried on the air and beginning to work on his lungs.

"It's heating," Elrond
resumed and ignored the wizard, "and the kitchen is preparing bran mash for
all those who are well enough to eat. Others are bringing hay and water buckets,
and we're fashioning plank screens to make temporary stalls, but in the meantime
I believe we can use the banquet tables, and... you and Glorfindel must tell
me if I've forgotten anything."

"We will," inserted Glorfindel.

"I'll take him from here,"
Elrond said, moving in behind Legolas and smoothing a hand down Assassin's
neck. Both horse and elf clearly drew comfort from the touch, and they moved
slowly, silently toward the corner closest the hearth and its healing contents.

Mithrandir sidled up beside
Legolas as Elrond began examining his horse in earnest. Grooms waited nearby
with their charges as more horses were lead into the hall.

"So the two of you have
not only met formally, but are working together." The wizard beamed. "That
is well."

"I suppose you're right."
Legolas pulled at the end of a heavy table. "Help me with this, please? We
don't want any mishaps with Assassin."

"Of course, though I doubt
he feels well enough to rear and attack anyone."

Legolas spared him a quick
grin. "I wouldn't make that sort of assumption."

Glorfindel grabbed the
end of another table. "Despite our best efforts, you know we'll lose some."

"We have to try."

"Even if Assassin recovers,
it probably won't be completely," the older elf warned as Mithrandir stood
by. "Still, that stallion would probably be contented to sire many foals."

"That's enough, isn't
it? Just having him live and be comfortable?"

"Elrond would be contented
with just having Assassin in Middle-earth, to pamper him all of his days."

"I'm glad you think so,"
Legolas murmured. He started to help Glorfindel with the table, only to hesitate.
"Pardon me for a moment, please? Elrond's herbs do their work too well."

Moving to a brazier, he
took the time to cough and spit under Glorfindel's watchful eye.

"Why aren't you doing
this as well?" he demanded of the elf-lord once he could draw breath without
coughing again.

It was Glorfindel's turn
to grin. "I got a head start on you and did it all night long in the privacy
of my own quarters."

Other horses were being
led into the hall now. Mithrandir got well out of the way while both elves
went to help settle and tend them.

"Some look just fine,
don't they?" Glorfindel commented. "No wheezing, no coughing. But we can't
assume that no damage has been done. It's insidious enough to show up later,
so we'll treat them anyway."

"Prepare for the worst
and hope for the best," Legolas rasped before breaking away to cough again.

"There's a good warriors'
attitude," Glorfindel muttered as he dragged another table across the floor.

Elrond was busying himself
with treating other horses, so barring any specific orders Legolas went wherever
he saw he was needed. The hours fled by as all settled into a rhythm: keep
everyone warm, keep the air moist, use the ready supply of herbs and the braziers,
refill the boiling cauldrons and kettles of water, take the patients for walks,
and urge the house-elfs to continue cleaning up after them. A lot. Legolas
soon approached Erestor with a request that minders be posted with buckets
and shovels.

"Pick up the manure once
the horse moves away. If you see him start to spread, head in with your bucket,"
he told one timid elf, who seemed more than a little reluctant to do her job.

"I'm not a stable-groom,"
she protested. "I'm a house-elf! I've no idea how horses?do things.

"He's male, and he pees
like any other male. The source should be no great mystery to you."

The newly recruited groom
drew herself up at the obvious insult, then shoved the bucket at Legolas.

"You know so much about
it, *you* catch it. You're clearly accustomed to handling such muck."

"It's in the house. It's
yours," Legolas pointed out, ignoring the bucket altogether. "You can either
catch it in a bucket or mop it up after. I really don't care which, so long
as the area is kept clean around the horses."

"But horses in the Hall
of Fire - horses dumping in the Hall of Fire - it's a disgrace!"

"It's necessary," said
Legolas, pointing out a small pile. "You need to attend to that."

The elf did so, chasing
the manure awkwardly around the floor with her shovel before capturing it.
She then transferred it to a basket, displeasure clear through her pursed
lips and wrinkled nose. "How long are they staying?"

"Until the stable is finished."

"Ugh! We'll never be able
to eat here again! And where are we supposed to sing? And dance?"

Legolas shrugged. "There's
always the rest of Imladris. Urge your friends to work faster on the stable."

"But it's mid-winter,
and... and... you have no compassion!" She looked near tears as Legolas pointed
out another horse lifting its tail not far from her elbow.

"I do, but it's all for
the horses."

"You're... you're disgusting!
Who are you, anyway, that you can just walk in here and tell us what to do?"
Glowering, she all but threatened him with her shovel.

"He is someone who likes
horses," said a new voice, the voice of the Master of Imladris. "There's a
stallion spreading now -- off with you."

"Yes, m'lord." The embarrassed
elf struggled to control both bucket and shovel as she scampered off to do
her master's bidding.

Legolas's eartips were
glowing. Again. "I hope I didn't offend--"

"Not at all. The inside
elves have always thought their jobs more important than those who serve outside.
Horses invading Imladris... it's not been done before. And by the way, I don't
think you know what a miracle it is that Assassin carried you from the stable,
and that he allowed you to lead him here today."

"Actually, *he* led *me*.
Both times."

Elrond nodded understanding.
"You would do well to remember his name and its meaning, then. Assassin has
never carried anyone in the past but me, nor has he willingly allowed others
to lay hands on him, much less walk with him."

"He seems more than merely
a horse somehow," Legolas said thoughtfully. "Perhaps he recognized the necessity."

"Necessity does not move
Assassin. He will fight to his own detriment if he feels insulted or misused.
Affection moves him. Affection he clearly feels for you."

Erestor interrupted them
in that moment, relieving Legolas of any need to respond. Indeed, he didn't
think he could have responded if he'd had to.

"As ordered, m'lord, I
have stayed out of your sight until mid-day meal, which banquet has been arranged
for your dining pleasure inside of the library."

"The library?" Elrond
looked as incredulous as he sounded. "You've invaded my books with food?"

An unrepentant Erestor
gazed back at his master. "You have taken over not only the Hall of Fire,
but the great hall with horses. Where else are we to serve you and those who
toil to save the animals of which you are so fond?"

"Set up tables in the
corridors!" Elrond ordered. "I don't want anything edible near the books."

"Yes, m'lord. Immediately
with the next meal, m'lord. I am quite certain they will not mind dining in
the hallways where the coughing horses are led about. But plates have already
been set out as well as wooden goblets that might be carried for instant refreshment
wherever your helpers go. Perhaps everyone would like to partake of the banquet
now and save us the trouble of moving everything twice? We have worked hard
gather a few tables to accommodate your banquet, but were able to find none
for sitting. There seems a great shortage of tables at present." Gazing around
the Hall of Fire, the Elf managed to register his disapproval without another
word.

Elrond sighed his defeat.
"As you will, Erestor. Please let everyone within the halls know that they
may take their mid-day meal in the library at their leisure."

"Yes, m'lord, but won't
you serve yourself in peace first?"

"Come, Elrond," Mithrandir
admonished, sidling up on the elf-lord's elbow. "You know that this fellow
will not give it up until our small group has eaten. In truth, you've all
been laboring for hours. A small break with a meal seems in order to me."

"As you will," Elrond
grumbled again. But he still led the way out of the Hall of Fire and into
his beloved, if invaded, library.

"It's revenge, you know?"
he said companionably to Legolas, who followed in Mithrandir's wake with Glorfindel.
"I have invaded Erestors halls, so he has invaded my beloved books."

"But just as his precious
hall may be washed down and restored to its original splendor once we are
finished," said Glorfindel, "Erestor will take great care to preserve the
sanctity of the mausoleum--"

"The what?"

"Ah, pardon me... the
museum Lord Elrond has accumulated over the years."

"Mausoleum? Is that what
you think of my preservation efforts? Have you no respect for the history
or lore of Middle-earth, even considering the great part you have played in
it?"

"I *died*, Elrond. I fail
to see how getting a balrog stuck in my golden tresses and being dragged to
my doom constitutes any great historical event in your tidy little tomes."

Mithrandir winked at Legolas.
"There they go again. You and I shall gather our plates and sneak off to a
quiet alcove to enjoy our repast. Those two, in the meantime, will continue
one of their incessant debates."

"Hmm? What? Oh, it comes
in very handy when wishes to investigate the really important things - like
the history of pipeweed since the beginning of the Shire."

Together they headed for
the food laid out beneath the elegant flying buttressed ceiling.

CHAPTER
SIX

"Did you see Arwen?" Elrond
asked as soon as they'd finished eating, in between the dessert and the wine.

"I met with your daughter
this morning," Mithrandir replied. "She has agreed to go to Lothlorian with
me and will leave as soon as she is ready. Her brothers will join us on the
road, so she will be well-protected."

"Good. My daughter has
been in seclusion since her mother's death," Elrond offered explanation to
Legolas.

"I see," said Legolas.
[In seclusion, probably so she won't have to watch her father court his new
consort.]

A groom came to the library
door at that moment, wanting to consult Lord Elrond and Glorfindel on some
detail or other in the horses' care.

"We should get back to
the horses," said Legolas, starting to get up from the large and far-too-comfortable
chair he'd homesteaded at the beginning of the meal.

The wizard nodded. "You're
doing well, he likes you. I have sent word of our safe arrival to your father,
and trust that Elrond will send some sort of message himself. What is your
first impression?"

"His horses like him,
so he's a man of honor at least where they're concerned."

Mithrandir gave a low,
delighted laugh. "I suspect that Elrond would say the same of you at this
point. Carry on as you have, and I daresay your joining will be less painful
than you think."

"I don't want it to be
less painful," hissed Legolas as the two elf-lords broke off their discussion
and headed back across the library. "I want its necessity to go away."

There wasn't time for
Mithrandir to reply, so the wizard sagely remained silent. Slouching in irritation,
Legolas stared at the snowflakes falling beyond the library balcony.

[My hand's starting to
hurt again,] he realized. [Must have used it too much this morning.] The bandage
was soiled as well, he noted. He made a brief effort to scrape at some of
the worst of the stains, then abandoned it.

"Just a few minutes more,"
Glorfindel sighed, sinking back down into his chair and twirling a wine goblet
between his fingers. "Then we'll return to battle."

"And so, Mithrandir,"
said Elrond, pouring himself another glass of wine. Legolas shook his head
in a second refusal as the carafe was offered to him. "What news have we from
Mirkwood?"

"News? What news are you
expecting?"

"You were supposed to
bring someone to me yesterday, were you not? Or at least news of him. Is Legolas,
Prince of Mirkwood, on his way to Imladris?"

Mithrandir looked back
at his host in obvious confusion. "He is not. I thought--"

"He is not? I thought
he was to arrive forthwith. Has Thranduil decided not to follow through with
the agreement?"

The wizard held up a hand
to stay the cross words, and shook his head. "I thought you knew...."

"Knew what?"

"Legolas arrived with
me last night. Ah, Elbereth, was it only last night? Seems much longer than
that. Any road--"

"Then where is he?" Elrond
snapped. "I've not heard word of his arrival."

"Legolas is sitting right
there next to you." Gesturing shortly, the wizard indicated the blonde Elf
sprawled in the chair next to Elrond's own.

Glorfindel abandoned his
wine and sat up. Legolas closed his eyes, only to open them again and meet
Elrond's astonished gaze head on. [If I'm to meet my doom here in the library
of Imladris, I want to see it coming for me. At least there's a fair collection
of weaponry about; if he attacks me, am I not entitled to at least attempt
to defend myself?]

"You are... certain?"
Elrond pursued.

"I've known him since
before he was born, of course I'm certain. Legolas, why didn't you introduce
yourself?" Not bothering to move or shift position since no courtly bow or
other formal gesture could save him now, Legolas offered a weak smile, waggled
the fingers of his bandaged hand, and murmured, "It is good to finally meet
you, my lord Elrond."

Elrond said nothing for
a long moment. He merely stared. "But you... You're not what I envisioned
or expected at all."

"I'm sorry to disappoint
you."

"You're not a thing like
your father!"

Legolas offered a wry
smile. "Thank you for the compliment."

"You...thank me for what?"

"Come, Glorfindel," said
Mithrandir, rising and stretching his back. "These two need to be alone."

"But I've not finished
my wine."

"Yes, you have."

"I want to stay and hear
this out."

"No, you don't. It's time
for private things between these two and so come along. We'll go see some
Elves about some horses."

Legolas didn't think Elrond
was even aware of their being left alone. Shifting in his seat as his back
was beginning to ache, Legolas sat up and faced his foe directly.

"I said thank you for
the compliment because I'm glad to be nothing like my father," he explained.
When Elrond didn't respond, but merely kept staring as if in trance, Legolas
tried again. "Mithrandir was grinning when he left us. Is that a good sign?"

"I'm...never sure."

"I didn't mean to deceive
you. It's just that the horses needed our full attention and you didn't need
the distraction any more than they did."

"That's certainly true."
The trance seemed to break. Gray eyes raked Legolas from top to toe, much
as they had in the bath, but with a gaze even more compelling than it had
been then. "You are a surprise, Legolas Thranduilion, but I think you know
that."

"I know that you were
probably expecting someone like my brother, who is very much like my father.
Am I such a disappointment, then?"

Elrond laughed outright
at that. "You are far from being a disappointment, Legolas. On the contrary,
you are a pleasant surprise. My horses like you. Assassin likes you, which
makes you a wondrous miracle come from Mirkwood. I cannot think why I did
not ask your name."

"You assumed I was an
advance scout, I believe. No name necessary."

"You heard the conversation
between Glorfindel and me this morning, then?"

With some reluctance,
Legolas nodded. "I didn't intend to listen at the door. Your antechamber is
very small, and sound travels very well."

"A fact which Erestor
has never seen fit to tell me. Thank you for the warning, Legolas. I shall
make him wait in the outside corridor, or down here on the main floor from
now on." The smile Elrond offered seemed genuinely warm. "I wish you had at
least confided your name to me."

"Had I done so, everything
would have changed. Everything will change now, when my presence is announced
to your people. Whether I am welcomed by them or not, I will prove a distraction
to them. The horses won't have their undivided attention, and they must. But
it's not my place to...." He let the sentence trail off, not even certain
of what he had wanted to say.

"It's not your place to
keep your arrival a secret from my people," Elrond finished for him. "How
can you care so deeply for animals that are not your own?"

"If you are kind to a
horse, if you respect its needs and know how to enter into its world, that
horse will offer you their loyalty and devotion without reservation. It's
not Assassin's fault he's been hurt, and it's not his fault I've arrived and
might prove the distraction that defeats him in the end." Legolas shook his
head. "I don't want that to happen. He saved me, so I suppose I'd like to
save him."

"There's more to it than
that, I think," Elrond said softly. "I've raised two sons, Legolas, and have
counseled many sons of other Elves. I have some instinct where young anxieties
are concerned, and while you work comfortably with me around the horses, much
tension arises in you the moment we are alone. I do not understand why this
should be so."

"I could explain but there
isn't time, Lord Elrond. I am here to become your consort, to finalize the
alliance between Imladris and Mirkwood, but the horses need us. Your people
can wait to meet their... prince." He nearly spat the word. "I can wait to
meet them, but Assassin and the others cannot wait."

"And you would rather
not be known to them just yet."

"No, my Lord Elrond."

"Then we shall call you
Lasgalen until such time as your identity can be revealed, until I and all
of Imladris can welcome you properly. How is your hand feeling?"

Legolas blinked at the
sudden change of subject. "It... aches a bit."

"Then let us divert to
my chambers and apply more oils, rewrap it in something a bit cleaner and
protect it well before you return to your labors. And please don't use the
new bandage to wipe noses."

Moving toward the stairs,
Elrond turned back and very nearly stepped on Legolas's toes as he followed
obediently him. "I want you to know, I looked forward to your arrival and
am glad you are here, Legolas. I only wish the night had been less chaotic
when you arrived. That does not mean I am unhappy you were there to save my
friends."

"Thank you, my lord."

~ ~ ~

['Thank you, my lord.']
Elrond echoed Legolas's words after they had returned to the Hall of Fire.
Legolas stayed at his side and, true to his word Elrond began calling him
Lasgalen. Their work with the horses continued as before, its rhythm was uninterrupted
except for one thing.

['Thank you, my lord.'
A proper, formal response when before I distinctly remember him calling me
Elrond. Now, he is tense. Formal. Stilted in my presence, and I have no further
answers than before as to the reason why.]

[Legolas sought this alliance
along with his father, did he not? If so, then why has he withdrawn into himself?
Where is the ferocity he showed in fighting to give Assassin his chance at
life? Where is the eagerness one might expect from a new consort?]

[I tend his injured hand...
he suffers my touch but does not welcome it. I lean against him, he allows
it and sometimes, yes, he leans back, but will not initiate it. He submits
to me, but that is only on the surface or when he forgets and is focused elsewhere.]

The afternoon wore on,
with Elrond setting aside his concerns as he could to focus on the tasks at
hand. Horses were tended in a seamless rhythm of steam, walking, oils and
comforting words and rubs amid a chorus of deep, bone- rattling coughs. From
time to time, he and Legolas would recheck a horse, lock gazes, and one or
the other of them would smile slightly. Sometimes they shook their heads in
silent agreement and then Legolas would stand quietly with the suffering animal
while Elrond said his good-byes. Once the Lord of Imladris had turned away,
Legolas led the horse quietly from his presence, out into the hallway and
on to Glorfindel.

It was Glorfindel who
took the dying for their last walk. By sunset, a dirty path was worn into
the snow, out behind the northwest pasture where the trees blocked the view
of the final good-bye.

There were considerably
fewer horses inside of the Homely House at the end of the day than there had
been at the beginning. Assassin stood with them and while he was not yet out
of danger, neither was he any worse. Elrond thought Legolas took courage from
that fact, but could not be sure. Where Legolas was concerned, Elrond was
certain of nothing, save the determination that seemed to radiate from him.

[Nothing,] thought Elrond,
watching Legolas start the trek to hand over a sweet little mare to Glorfindel,
but not until he'd whispered his own good-bye into the velvet ear.

Her eyes were wide with
her panicked struggle to draw air into failing lungs, her chin thrust forward
and nostrils flaring widely as she panted hard enough to rock her body forward
and back as she fought. She was suffering and frightened, and there was only
one thing left to be done for her. She was a sweet mare, a good mother, and
a loyal and courageous mount in her day. She would be deeply missed by all
who knew her, and evidently by those who had only just met her as well.

[How quickly Legolas comes
to care for those who are helpless in our hands,] thought Elrond, [even as
his father would take advantage of those helpless in his own hands. Helpless....]

Elrond watched as the
mare was guided out of the hall and toward the main doors. Her steps were
slow and tremulous, and Legolas steadied her with comforting hands as he kept
up a litany of promises - promises of peace and comfort and the ending of
her pain.

The high whinny of the
mare's last foal - only lately weaned - followed her in a plaintive call.
Her head lifted in recognition, but she had no strength to answer with anything
but a silent farewell that barely caused her nostrils to flutter before another
cough nearly took her off of her feet. Quick hands and an Elven body against
her side steadied her, and then they moved forward once more.

The misery in the young
elf's expression showed clearly as they moved past Elrond for that long, sad
walk, and the foal called for his mother once more.

[There are so many in
pain today, so many innocent ones suffering,] Elrond noted bitterly. Narrowing
his gaze, the elf-lord turned away and returned to the Hall of Fire to tend
more of his friends and to ponder the strange young Elf who had come none
too eagerly to Imladris to be at his side.

Night fell, and Glorfindel
offered to take first watch. Elrond let him, washing his hands for the last
time and beckoning Legolas to his side. The Elf came, but not willingly. Fatigue
was echoed in every bit of his lithe body. His blue eyes were dull and full
of death-shadows - something Elrond recognized from his own time in battle.
Sliding a hand slowly across the muscled shoulders, Elrond felt Legolas tense.
He let his hand fall away.

"Why don't you bathe and
then join me for a quiet supper alone in my chambers." It was not a request,
and Elrond didn't mean for it to be. It was an expectation, one he knew would
be fulfilled.

"Yes, Lord Elrond." The
answer was as agreeable as always, but Legolas's shoulders were tense.

Nodding, Elrond left Legolas
and went to confer with Glorfindel one last time on the night's treatment
for the horses. The supplies were plenty and all was in order, but Elrond
used one final check as an excuse to let Legolas slip away, unnoticed, with
his head held high as any proud stallion's.

[Things are definitely
not as Thranduil presented them to me,] Elrond growled inwardly. [Tonight,
I will find out why.]

CHAPTER
SEVEN

The feeling of dread in
the pit of Legolas's stomach didn't lessen after a two-hour soak in the bathing
pool - how could it, when he knew that after supper Elrond would doubtless
call upon him to honor the agreement King Thranduil had forged? Tonight, Elrond
would want to begin exploring the relationship between them, would expect
his new consort to display his eagerness to mate with the Lord of Imladris.
No sick horses or related duties would stand between them, they would be alone
in Elrond's chambers
this night. All night. The invasive touching would begin, and Legolas hoped
he could endure it.

If anything, his anxiety
grew tenfold when, just as he was about to get out of the water, Erestor strode
into the chamber, gathered
Legolas's pile of dirty clothes, and announced, "I'll see that these are cleaned
and returned to you, Lord Lasgalen."

In a swirl of robes, Elrond's
majordomo was gone and Legolas had no chance to object unless he wanted to
leap from the water and run naked up the stairs to catch the elf. [Elrond
himself probably
sent him,] Legolas reflected, [to locate his wayward will-be lover.] Irritation
followed hard on the thought. [Why not come himself, if that's the case?]

[Because Elrond probably
told Erestor who you really are and trusts him to be discreet?] offered a
voice inside his head. [Because the Lord of Imladris is eager for your company,
but does not wish to appear so, as your identity is not common knowledge,
and Elrond wishes to prevent the entire household from seeing him check up
on a common wood-Elf from Mirkwood?]

Legolas snarled silently
at the voice within and its logical motivations. [He probably just doesn't
want any of his guests running around in dirty leggings. He's already criticized
the way I keep my bandages.]

Erestor addressed someone
outside the chamber who answered in the high, light voice of a female elf.
And then the maidservant was on her way in, ignorantly intent upon destroying
Legolas's already
shattered sanctuary. He sighed inwardly to see that this was the same elf
he'd forced to chase horse droppings only that afternoon. A second encounter,
with Legolas naked and vulnerable in the water, was not something he welcomed.

Descending on the bathchamber
with much more eagerness than she'd desplayed around the equine muck, the
elf carried an armload of towels that obstructed her vision. Walking around
the edge of the pool, she was oblivious not only to Legolas, but to the pile
of clean clothes he had placed within easy reach at the edge of the pool.
Inevitably, her small foot kicked them aside just as Legolas
lunged across the pool to save them.

[So much for a warrior's
reflexes,] Legolas thought in irritation as water sloshed over the maidservant's
feet. His bandaged fingers
closed uselessly around his moss-green tunic as it followed
his leggings into the water.

"Amin hiraetha -- I'm
so sorry!" the maidservant exclaimed, leaping backward and nearly dropping
the armful of towels on his head. Peering over them, she widened her eyes
to recognize her victim. "You!"

"Me."

"I should have known!"
she spat. "Most people put their clothes on the shelf rather just heaping
them on the floor." Whirling, she shoved the towels onto the ledge encircling
the pool.

"Most people look where
they're going," he rejoined, slapping his dripping clothing onto the stone
edge.

"I didn't wet your things
on purpose!"

"I didn't say you did."

She stared resentfully
at the sodden pile. "I suppose you'll want me to dry your things in the kitchen."

"The tunic is leather,
it belongs nowhere near a fire."

"Fine! Then you can please
yourself and dry them yourself." She glowered in open hostility. "I didn't
know you were in here. Erestor didn't mention--"

"It doesn't matter." Her
tone was starting to make his head hurt. "If you'll just hand me a towel,
I'll take care of my own things."

Snatching up a towel,
she shoved it at him, only to nearly fall into the water.

"Careful," Legolas murmured,
reflexively laying his his wet-bandaged hand against her thigh to steady her,
even as he took the towel with his good hand.

She skidded back like
a cat burned on a hot griddle-iron. "Your hand is clammy!"

"The bandages are wet.
Again," he commented with no little weariness.
"At least Lord Elrond cannot say that I did not keep them clean. Still, he
will not be pleased."

"Blame me." She wiped
down her leg.

"Blame you for what, Aniviel?"
a low, smooth voice intruded. "What have you done to Lord Lasgalen?"

"Just Lasgalen will do."

The maidservant blushed
and stammered. "I... he... He didn't put his clothes up safely where he should
have, and they've gone into the water."

"Where you accidentally
kicked them, I presume?" Erestor leveled a knowing look at the elf. "Please
return to the kitchen and deliver the supper tray Lord Elrond has requested
be delivered to his chambers. Try not to trip on the way."

"As you will, Erestor"
Ducking her head, Aniviel all but slunk out of the bathchamber. Legolas watched
her go with no little relief.

"I apologize for her clumsiness,
my lord," Erestor continued as Legolas carefully wrapped the towel around
himself and headed for the steps leading out of the water. "I shall visit
your chamber and retrieve something else for you to wear."

Legolas noted that Erestor
watched him emerge from the bath with a glance that wasn't predatory so much
as speculative. This was, after all, the Elf that Elrond had been spending
a great deal of time with lately, regardless Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood was
due any moment to arrive and take his rightful place at Elrond's side. Surely
Legolas's trusted scout would no longer be needed when that occurred, either
by his master or the Lord of Imladris? Perhaps then Lasgalen of Mirkwood would
entertain the possibility of spending a little time with Erestor?

The majordomo's thoughts
weren't difficult to read. Legolas had seen the look in other eyes - Elrond's
eyes -only a few hours before. He couldn't recall ever having seen such a
look in Mirkwood.
[Perhaps they were there, but I was as oblivious to them as Aniviel is to
her clumsiness.]

Legolas gained the stone
terrace surrounding the pool only to discover Erestor was standing so close
to him, the elf's breath chilled Legolas's chest. The majordomo's gaze was
openly assessing
now, and Legolas reached around him smoothly to exchange
his very wet towel for a dry one.

"That was my last set
of clean things," he said, securing his towel, "and Lord Elrond expects me
to join him shortly. Is it possible for me to obtain other clothing?"

Erestor frowned. "Did
you not come from Mirkwood, an advance representative for your prince?"

Legolas shrugged. "Of
a sort, yes."

"Surely you brought more
with you."

"Mithrandir and I left
in a bit of a hurry, so little was packed. My first set of clothing was fire-soiled,
and you took the second for cleaning a few minutes ago. The third has been
drowned."

Erestor offered a bow
- an excessive gesture of respect for a mere wood-Elf, but the slender, austere
servant made it respectful
rather than mocking. "It is unfortunate that Imladris should have so evil
an impact upon your wardrobe. Additional garments shall be made immediately
from a pattern employing those currently within my possession. In the meantime...."
The speculative
look was back, but Erestor seemed a bit more focused on service rather than
passion this time.

"I would say you about
the same height and build as Elrond's sons," Erestor mused. "Elrohir wouldn't
mind loaning you a robe or two, especially as he and his brother are off patroling
the borders at the moment. I shall return momentarily, my lord."

"Diola lle," Legolas murmured.

"You are most welcome."
Scooping up the latest set of ruined clothes, Erestor offered another bow
and then was gone.

~ ~ ~

"Lord Elrond," Legolas
called out softly. Pulling at the robe puddling around his bare feet, he hovered
uneasily in the shadows outside the Elf-lord's bedchamber. Full dark had fallen
since he'd been in the baths. He wished he could hide in that darkness, climb
the highest tree and stay there until morning when equine duties would call
again and their distractions could cloak him further. Several things made
such an escape impossible, not the least of which were the voluminous robes
he'd been loaned that were so ill-suited to climbing trees.

"Lasgalen," a deep voice
acknowledged from within, its owner unseen.

Legolas knew how Elrond
would appear: his robes were never ill-fitting, they wouldn't have dared.
They always hung beautifully from the Elven lord's broad shoulders, concealed
a barrel chest, and were the perfect backdrop for the long, raven-black hair
that Legolas had already learned glowed blindingly in sunlight or firelight.
Elrond was every inch a noble Elf-lord, no matter Mirkwood's king thought
him a half-bred upstart who'd claimed a power and authority upon Gil-Galad's
death to which he had no right.

"I've been waiting for
you," the warm baritone continued from the shadows. It had commanded armies;
tonight, it commanded Legolas. "Please join me, and welcome."

Taking no comfort from
his host's welcoming words, Legolas slipped
cautiously into the sanctorium and tried to hug the wall. Shadows and light
moved on the interior walls - a red-gold mixture
of firelight and candlelight offering warmth and security in the dead of winter.
He had known such things as a child wrapped
safe in his mother's embrace, but she had broken her neck and died during
a riding accident when he'd scarce reached his fourteenth birthday. Even after
her death, fire had seemed a benevolent element, warming the stones of his
underground chamber and accompanying his father's festivities in the Great
Hall of Mirkwood. No more, though. Fire had destroyed too many beautiful new
friends this day.

[A different sort of flame
may well be waiting to destroy me as well,] Legolas thought, rubbing his fingers
against the wet bandage guarding the wounded palm of his hand. [I've already
been branded. Tonight, I fear being burned in a different way. Still, I agreed
to be here, did I not?]

Gathering what little
dignity was possible when one was wrapped in ill-fitting robes and dreading
a long night that had only just begun, Legolas squared his shoulders, met
Lord Elrond's calm gaze, and announced, "This has not been a good day, my
lord. But the horses are resting comfortably now."

"So far, yes. I would
like to check on Assassin and the others again later."

"As would I." Pouring
two goblets of mead, Elrond offered one to his guest, who was slowly approaching
the table and eyeing his host warily as if either might leap up and attack
him. "How is it that you came to traverse Imladris's halls in robes that I believe belong to
one of my sons?"

"Aniviel accidentally
caused my last clean set of clothing to be tossed into the water," Legolas
explained, taking the mead only to set it aside without sampling the contents.
"Erestor was kind enough to cover my unwilling nakedness with this." He pulled
at the rich material.

"Perhaps. I was also unable
to prevent this from being soaked." He gestured with his injured hand.

"It is past time the bandages
were changed again, but they can wait a bit longer." Robes rustling, Elrond
seated himself at the table, shoved aside a pile of books and pulled closer
a wooden tray stacked with covered plates. "The day has been long and exhausting
for us both, and I've waited supper for you. Let us eat before we do anything
else."

"You needn't have waited."
Even as he thought to deny being hungry, Legolas's stomach growled. Only then
was he made aware of the inticing scents coming from the plates. It seemed
his body's needs were prepared to overwhelm his anxieties.

"How did you know I would
arrive before all became too cold to eat?" Legolas asked, seating himself
across from the Elf-lord.

"I asked Erestor to send
up food as soon as you emerged from the baths." Elrond passed a plate to Legolas.

[So he was checking up
on me,] Legolas thought, somewhat amused even as he was still irritated at
the thought. "Erestor came and carried away the old things I was wearing."

"I've known him all of
my life and am comfortable with such intrusions; you, however, are probably
not."

"He was as tactful as
possible, given the circumstances."

Elrond nodded. "You'll
find Erestor far more reliable than

Aniviel, and you'll see
your clothes again by morning. Rooms are being prepared for you -or, rather,
for the arrival of your true self - just through there." Elrond nodded at
an all-but-hidden doorway set into a far corner of the room. "They will be
ready whenever you wish to reveal your presence to Imladris."

[And in the meantime,
am I to sleep with you or in the chamber where I awoke this morning?] Legolas
wanted to ask, but dared not. He picked at the food on his plate, his appetite
suddenly gone.

"Why did you not arrive
with more clothing?" Elrond asked. "Come to that, where is the entourage we
were expecting?"

Legolas hesitated before
answering, did not look up to meet the Elf-lord's gaze. "I left Mirkwood in
a bit of a hurry."

"Were you so eager to
reach Imladris, then?"

"You might say that I
was..." He chose his words carefully, knowing that the interrogation had begun.
"I was eager for the alliance between our two kingdoms to be confirmed."

"Confirmed. I see." Elrond
didn't bother hiding his skepticism, and his lengthy silence afterward made
Legolas glance up at last. Intense grey eyes held his, commanding him to reveal
hidden truths behind the diplomatic phrasing.

Mentally squirming beneath
that gaze - which Legolas had no doubt Elrond had used against his sons on
occasion and every bit as effectively as he was using it now - Legolas broke
away to concentrate
on the fascinating pile of demolished food before him. Hopefully, the Elf-lord's
interest - or at least his curiosity
- would wane in the ongoing silence.

[Even if I win this battle,
when he takes me and the bond is established, I will have lost the war. My
thoughts will be open to him, up to and including my feelings about my father
and this alliance,] Legolas thought in miserable desperation. [Tonight, I
would rather be anywhere but here in this chamber with him.]

CHAPTER
EIGHT

"You are quiet and tense
and painfully polite," Elrond softly broke the silence between them at last.
"For all that you must be hungry, you're not eating very much. Nor are you
enjoying the wine."

Startled by his host's
concerned tone, Legolas snapped up his head and stared at Elrond. Offering
a slight smile, the Elf-lord sat back in his chair, steepled his fingers,
and stretched out his long legs. He openly studied his prince now, casually ignoring the younger
Elf's discomfort.

"I... I don't drink very
much." Legolas offered the crumb of personal information in response to Elrond's
careful probing. "Wine dulls the senses and slows the reflexes."

"Ah." [I'm not surprised
this one doesn't drink very much,] Elrond thought, [given how much his father
does.] Snagging a pitcher and a clean ceramic mug from a nearby, smaller table,
he poured out a measure of herbal tea and pushed it toward Legolas across
the table. "This might be more to your liking."

"Thank you, m'lord." He
sipped at it politely, looked startled, and took a longer pull. "It's very
good."

Elrond smiled. "I am glad
it pleases. I had despaired of anything within Imladris pleasing you - except
the horses."

"My lord Elrond, I--"

All but losing patience
with the polite dance between them, Elrond held up a hand to stop the protest
before it began. "Just Elrond, if you please. If you are finished pushing
the food about on your plate, let me see to your hand."

"I do not wish to offend,
Lord... Elrond. It's just that I'm not very hungry."

"No?" Elrond arched a
disbelieving eyebrow and was rewarded by seeing those delicate pointed eartips
going pink again. Still, he had to give the young prince credit; Legolas did
not look away this time. "Perhaps you will be hungry later this evening. Or
perhaps you will recover your appetite at breakfast tomorrow, once you discover
whether I plan to devour you in the night."

Outrage, fury, apprehension...
Elrond was ill-put to keep up with the flow of emotions reflected in the smoldering
blue eyes meeting
his, and deeper hollows appeared beneath Legolas's high cheekbones as he grit
his teeth. Much to Elrond's surprise, the look in Legolas's eyes finally settled
into weary submission.

"As you will, my lord."

"My lord again, is it?"
Sighing, Elrond sat up. "Whatever else your father may have told you about
me, I do not seek a weak, submissive mate, Legolas. It's all right to have
opinions - you certainly had some valuable ones regarding the care of my horses.
For all of that, you seem determined to repress a great deal of yourself around
me. The question is... why?"

"My only wish is to please
you." The words came from behind a clenched jaw.

"You think that pretending
to have no will of your own pleases me? No, don't argue that," Elrond interrupted
as Legolas opened his mouth to begin another submissive defense. "I know you
are deliberately hiding yourself from me. The question is... why? Is it because
of something I've done, something your father has told you, or something else
entirely? I have much time to spend with you, Legolas - not only tonight -
and sooner or later, I'll find out what you are hiding. In the meantime, I'll
leave you safe behind your gentle mask if you'll let me tend your wounded
hand."

A look of fury and frustration
flashed briefly in Legolas's smoldering blue eyes. With what might have been
a low growl, Legolas shoved aside his unfinished dinner, yanked up the sleeve
of his robe, and bared his arm before Elrond.

"So much for supper,"
Elrond commented wryly, "and so much for being submissive. Now, that was an
honest reaction and much better than those coming before, don't you think?"

"No."

Elrond laughed outright,
reveling in the reaction he'd inspired. "Come now, Legolas. I doubt I could
force you to let me take care of you."

[You've got that right,]
said hostile blue eyes.

"You've a fighter's spirit,
my friend, and that won't stay buried,
no matter how much you think you want it to." Reaching for his scissors, Elrond
cut through the soiled bandages while Legolas said nothing. Laying open the
wound, he saw that his patient's long soak in the bath had served to bleach
white the burn's angry red welts. Rising from his chair and turning the injured
hand, Elrond viewed the injury from a different angle while layering a mixture
of lavendar and birch oil over the insulted skin. In growing horror, he realized
that while the hand was healing, the scarring was taking on an all-too-familiar
shape.

"Is that... Did you...."
Reaching for a nearby candlelabra, Elrond thumped it atop a stack of sturdy
books and angled the light closer. Grasping Legolas's wrist, he raised the
hand and turned the Elf's arm so that he could see the burn more clearly.
"Sweet Elbereth, the seal of my House is burned into your skin."

"Is that what it is?"
Legolas's droll tone did little to reassure his host: Elrond knew the Elf
was still irritated at the earlier confrontation Elrond had instigated. The
question now was what would be Legolas's ongoing response to that confrontation?
Would the walls thicken around the truth, or was there hope of Elrond's scaling
them?

"How did this happen?"
Elrond demanded, attacking the first wall as it was presented.

"Your seal was on Assassin's
stall door. I was stupid enough to touch it during the fire."

Elrond angled the scar
another way. "Everyone who sees this will think that I've already claimed
you. Branded you."

"Is that not why I am
here?" The question came with deceptive mildness.

"Yes," Elrond agreed absently,
his attention riveted on the Seal seared into Legolas's skin. "That is, no!
You're not here to join with me in that way, at least. Such was never my intention
and... and...."

Still holding onto the
Elf's hand, Elrond met the Elf's resentful gaze. "Legolas, I am so terribly
sorry. If there were any way to obliterate this, I would do it. But even to
try would be to injure you further. The Seal is deep. To attempt to remove
it now might cause irreperable nerve damage."

"Will the scarring prevent
me holding a bow or wielding a knife?"

"Not when it is fully
healed."

"Good. That is all that
truly matters." The Elf considered the scarred circle. "It's less red than
it was this morning. Is it healing well?"

"Yes, but that's not the
point!"

"The scarring cannot be
helped," Legolas said reasonably. Elrond was furious to see that the submissive
look was back in Legolas's eyes. "I will belong to you in the near future,
so the Seal cannot even be called a falsity. You might think of it as an outward
sign of our imminent bonding."

A deep sadness that Elrond
did not understand underlaid the submissiveness this time - sadness that Elrond
instinctively knew he should not target just then. [What are you remembering
or thinking, my friend?] He stared at Legolas a long time before silently
acknowledging the Elf's capitulation. Bandaging the hand, he trailed his fingers
over the concealed branding before gently squeezing Legolas's arm.

"You are healing quickly.
Tomorrow night, I think we can dispense with the bandages."

"That is well." Pulling
down the sleeve of his robe, Legolas quietly awaited whatever Elrond had in
mind next.

Moving across the chamber,
Elrond leaned against the arched entrance to the terrace and stared beyond
it, into his own private,
snow-covered garden. [Things between us are not as they should be, neither
as new friends nor as would-be lovers,] he reflected. [While Legolas and I
work well together on mundane matters, my efforts this night to meet him one-on-one
have been met only with frustration on my part and wariness on his. This prince
of Mirkwood obviously does not desire the union his father has offered. The
question is... why not?]

"I have something that
I think you need to see." Turning, Elrond retrieved a scroll from the haphazard
collection of documents piled on his desk. Handing it over to Legolas, he
relayed, "This is the initial communication I received from your father regarding
our alliance."

Unwinding the scroll,
Legolas examined it. Pulling up a chair, Elrond sat close by and remembered
the words on the parchment well enough to know what Legolas read in his father's
own hand. 'It grieved me and my family to learn of the loss of your Lady.
My younger son, Legolas, has expressed some notion of offering intimate comfort
in a way that may be beneficial to both our kingdoms. With his eager permission,
I am writing to explore the possibility of joining our two houses in a marriage
alliance....'

Elrond watched Legolas's
grip on the paper tighten until it crinkled and his knuckles whitened. The
Elf's breathing accelerated,
his strong jaw locked once more. "My father sent this to you months ago?"

"He did. As you can see,"
Elrond offered quietly, tapping the scroll Legolas still gripped, "Thranduil
led me to believe our union was your own idea."

"It was not." The words
were bitten out. "But... as I said before,
I am agreeable to it." Flinging aside the scroll, Legolas all but leaped out
of his chair to begin pacing the chamber restlessly.

"Agreeable does not mean
desiring," Elrond pointed out placidly, watching his companion circle the
small chamber like a great, agitated cat.

The cat rounded on him.
Balling his fists at his sides, Legolas glowered down at the Elf-lord and
all but shook in his rage. "How would you have me behave? What would you have
me say and do? I belong to you, am yours to command. Reveal your expectations
and I will do my best to comply."

"You do not belong to
me, Legolas, certainly not against your will. My expectation is that you will
tell me - honestly and clearly - how it is that Thranduil got you to agree
to a marriage bond when you so obviously loathe the idea."

"I agreed," the Elf snarled,
"that is all that matters."

"No, it is not. I require
more."

Legolas gestured shortly
with his good hand. "I have nothing more to offer you."

"I think otherwise. You
may not have come to Imladris to offer me love, but you can definitely offer
information. Tell me what your father did to make you come here?"

The restless pacing began
again. "He convinced me of the wisdom of such a bond."

"I am somewhat familiar
with Thranduil's arguments. How did he convince you?"

"He made a rebellious,
disobedient son see how he could be of use to Mirkwood for the first time
in his sorry life." Legolas glanced
over his shoulder as he passed, blue eyes flashing.

"Were those the exact
words Thranduil used?"

"Does it matter?" Raw
pain in the Elf's voice, quickly repressed. "I learned my lesson well, I am
here. It does not matter how I was led to agree to this alliance, Lord Elrond.
Agree, I did, as did you. We are both bound, and I am ready to honor my commitment
to you and to Imladris."

"I would have the truth,
Legolas. How did he make you agree?" Patiently, relentlessly, Elrond cycled
back to his original inquiry.

"You want truth? I'll
give you truth." The words were bitten out. "I daresay that six weeks in a
rat-infested cell beneath Mirkwood would make anyone agree to anything." Legolas
flung himself into a chair and gnawed on his knuckles as he glowered at the
snow falling on Elrond's terrace.

"Sweet Elbereth," the
Elf-lord breathed. "Thranduil thrust you beneath those cold stones and kept
you there, without light or hope?"

"He did." Legolas shrugged.
"But only until I yielded."

"Which took six weeks."

A bark of a laugh. "I
am a most obstinate son, my lord. It was not so bad as all that. He fed me
enough to keep the rats at bay, and Mithrandir was allowed the occasional
visit. Without his watchcare, I would probably still be there."

Elrond's heart ached.
He longed to reach out and gather Legolas into an embrace as he would have
his own sons, but knew the gesture would undoubtedly be misunderstood. "Your
father betrayed
us both, my prince. He stole your life from you and is attempting to thrust
you into an eternity that you do not want. He also misled me where you are
concerned. You are not at all as you were portrayed in that letter." Elrond
gestured at the discarded
scroll.

"Thranduil did not betray
me." The pain behind the word belied the denial. "He made me willing to serve
Mirkwood the best way that I can." Legolas considered a moment. "I will concede
that Thranduil may have misled you, but surely you are familiar with Mirkwood's
political maneuverings."

Elrond nodded, well-pleased
to see a bit of Legolas's own ironic opinions sneaking into the conversation.
"I knew. I can only plead vulnerability and loneliness after Celebrian's breaking
our bond. In my heart, I held some hope that someone else might want me as
she did not."

"You expected your consort
- a total stranger - to find you attractive, if not to hold some affection
for you?"

"A foolish, unrealistic
expectation, certainly."

Legolas shook his head.
"Not so unrealistic, given the right prince. You needed someone more like
my brother, whose attention can be led and commanded by Thranduil's suggestions,
as a kitten can be led and commanded by a string."

"Strange as it may seem,
I now find your refusal to be led is far more attractive than any pliable
son of Thranduil's could be," Elrond confessed. "And... as painful as it is
to admit, this is not the first time your father has misled me." Had Legolas
known the Elf-lord better, he would have heard the ring of fury in Elrond's
voice on his behalf. "It is bad enough that he would misrepresent your motives
to me and force you to do the same. That your father - any father - would
confine their child in a dungeon without light or hope for six weeks--"

"I am far from being a
child, Lord Elrond. I could have fought and prevented my captivity."

"Why did you not?" Elrond
demanded. Legolas shrugged, and the Elf-lord continued. "Was it perhaps because
Thranduil sent guards against you whom you had known all of your days? Guards
you could never hurt, much less truly fight?"

Legolas threw him a startled
look.

"I am all too familiar
with your father's methods. Thranduil knew exactly who to set against you
to ensure that he achieved his aims. You can rest assured that a dungeon cell
awaited you long before the door clanged shut behind you. To incarcerate one's
enemies is one thing; to incarcerate one's son is quite another. What was
Thranduil thinking? You may be agreeable to this alliance through heartless
coercion, Legolas, but you are far from willing. Nor should you be."

"I *am* willing, else
I would not be here." Exasperation tinged the Elf's tone.

"Willing!" Elrond nearly
bit the word in half as he lost patience.
"Let us see how willing you are."

Leaning forward, Elrond
moved slowly enough so that Legolas could escape his touch. Lifting the borrowed
robes, the Elf-lord laid his hand on Legolas's bare knee and felt hard muscles
contract.

"Were you a stallion,"
Elrond murmured seductively, beginning to caress the inside of that knee with
his thumb, "you would be prepared to kick me."

"Given time," Legolas
whispered, "stallions can be taught that such behavior is unacceptable."

He closed his eyes when
that long-fingered hand left his knee to travel further upward. His thigh
was breeched, and Elrond slid his hand inward, toward that most intimate,
warm, and guarded of places.

"How delightful that you
are wearing nothing beneath these robes,"
Elrond all but purred.

Sucking in a breath, Legolas
opened his eyes wide and tensed as if to bolt. Half-standing, he shoved backward
against the chair, only to find it was fetched up against a bookcase. If he
could have, he would have scrambled backward over it. As it was,

Legolas leaped to the
side and neatly put the chair between him and the Elf-lord.

Giving a small smile,
Elrond stood. "I've no doubt you've some skill as a warrior. You move like
one."

Wrapping his fingers around
Legolas's injured hand, he pulled -gently but incessantly, brooking no refusal.
Slowly, with obvious reluctance, Legolas subsided back into the chair. Breathing
hard and fast, he willed himself to submit. Leaning the back of his head against
the top of the chair, Legolas stared at the beamed ceiling in a desperate
attempt at detachment as Elrond stepped closer and closer, deliberately destroying
the slight distance between them.

"My prince...." Gathering
Legolas's damp hair on either side of his head, Elrond combed his fingers
through it gently, and then began again for the sheer, sensuous joy such touching
afforded. "Your hair is liquid light, Legolas. You cannot know how much I
enjoy feeling it flow through my fingers."

The Elf shivered and closed
his eyes, tightened his grip on the arms of the chair. Giving him silent credit
for not leaping out of the chair this time, Elrond leaned down and nuzzled
Legolas's temple.

"When you came to us only
a few hours ago, there were braids here... and here. Earlier, you spoke of
a bow," he murmured into the delicate shell of a pointed ear. "You are an
archer, then?"

"Yes." Legolas did not
open his eyes as Elrond's breath invaded his ear.

"And you have... some
skill with knives?"

"Yes." Barely a whisper,
beneath which was a shiver.

Elrond let his lips nuzzle
just in front of Legolas's ear before whispering, "You are a beautiful warrior
come to me then, from Mirkwood."

The lithe body was tensing
again, or even more tightly. "You have called me beautiful before. In the
bath."

"So I did." Elrond let
the tip of his nose caress Legolas's temple. "You do not like being called
beautiful?"

Turning his head to discourage
the subtle touching and seductive breath tickling his ear, Legolas opened
his eyes and met Elrond's gaze gravely from only a few inches away. Almost,
their lips were touching. "It matters not to me if you think I am beautiful."

"I see." Cupping Legolas's
jaw in the palm of his hand, Elrond murmured, "Then I shall indulge myself
where your beauty is concerned and discover how soft the skin is beneath your
ear."

Once that curiosity had
been satisfied, Elrond let his fingers trail from Legolas's ear to his chin.
"There is a dimple here... just here. I have seen glimpses of it, but it has
never appeared in response to me. I should like it if, one day, you were to
smile just for me. I have seen you strong and soft by turns, Legolas and I
wonder, which is real? It matters a great deal to me who you are, what you
like and do not like, my prince."

Legolas was gritting his
teeth so hard, the Elf-lord thought he might break a molar. Every muscle was
ready to fight or to flee given the slightest provocation, and Elrond wasn't
certain which response he might inspire, should he pursue this quest to find
out exactly how unwilling was his quarry.

"I have seen that look
before," Elrond murmured, refusing to stop touching the younger Elf or to
give ground until Legolas understood
himself as well as Elrond did. "I have seen it on battlefields with Elves
prepared to die rather than to surrender."

Legolas narrowed his eyes
and growled softly in what Elrond assumed was agreement with those battlefield
warriors.

"And so we see some spirit
at last," Elrond said, offering a respectful smile before backing up a pace
and nodding down at his furious victim. "I think the two of us have just illustrated
very nicely the difference between an Elf who is compelled to be willing,
and one who desires." Looking stern, Elrond continued, "You will never belong
to me willingly, Legolas Thranduilion, regardless what your father has commanded.
You do not want this, and you are not for me."

Bowing his head, Legolas
spoke low and urgent. "I was unprepared for your assault, Lord Elrond. I will
behave better the next time, would honor the alliance and bond with you. I
*must*. We must."

Elrond sank into the nearest
chair and took a long drink of the by now warm honey-wine. "Why will you not
yield and give up this argument?"

"Yielding is how I entangled
myself in this situation in this situation to begin with."

"And so, you learned nothing?"
The Elf-lord rubbed his temple. "The day has been long, and the night deepens.
I weary of this continuous challenge, approached first from one direction
and then another. You must crave rest at least as much as I do, so tell me
quickly and from the last direction - why do you think so desperately that
we must bond in light of all your father has done to maniuplate us into doing
just that?"

"Anything less, and Thranduil
will assume failure," Legolas said urgently. "He will accuse you of breaking
the alliance, of perhaps
never having intended to keep it to begin with. He will accuse me of betraying
him, of never intending to keep my word to come to Imladris and fulfill my
duty to him and to Mirkwood."

"You are so certain he
would blame you and not me exclusively?"

Legolas snorted. "I am
the obstinate, impossible son and you have already discovered the source of
my reluctance to be of service."

The admission came slowly,
but Elrond had demanded the truth. Perhaps now Legolas was willing to offer
it, as Elrond's methods of ensuring he received it were very much to be avoided.

"More than my father's
pride is at stake," Legolas pointed out. "If we do not bond, then Mirkwood
will not have what it needs in terms of food and other supplies through the
winter and beyond. Mirkwood also needs help protecting itself from the dark
forces gnawing at its borders."

That caught Elrond's attention.
"What do you know of such dark forces?"

Legolas seemed surprised.
"You ask in curiosity rather than with incredibility?"

"Not only am I the Lord
of Imladris and known to be a good listener.
I have traveled these lands in years past and have lived long enough to find
nothing incredible," Elrond reminded him, "not even the thought that so young
an Elf as yourself may be familiar with the evil we have long suspected is
growing in Dol Guldur."

"I am the Elf who traveled
thrice into Dol Guldur at Mithrandir's request." The words spilled out as
fast as Legolas could speak now. Some sort of verbal damn seemed to have burst,
with the Elf desperate for Elrond to understand and not reject his arguments
out of hand, as no doubt Thranduil had rejected them. "Elrond, I have seen
the Wraiths, along with others in the Dark One's employ - wolves and orcs
and other creatures that I dare not name. I've no doubt his strength is growing,
for I have seen it with my own eyes."

Elrond felt a sort of
stunned surprise overtake him. "You were the unknown spy in Mirkwood gathering
information for Mithrandir to deliver to the Council?"

"I know of no other, my
lord."

Elrond eyed the slender
Elf with even more respect than he'd felt before. "You continue to amaze me,
Legolas. Skilled you may be with knife and bow, but those are worthless against
some of the Dark Lord's foes."

Legolas shrugged. "Orcs
and wolves can be killed easily with the usual skills, and Wraiths are not
so very difficult to evade. They are blind at all hours of the day and night,
and if you disguise your scent and learn not to succumb to the fear they inspire,
it is childsplay itself to travel through the trees and evade them by not
letting them catch your scent on the ground. A stone tossed into distant underbrush
is enough to distract them for an hour."

Elrond shook his head
in amazement. "You served all of Middle-earth thus, and yet your father is
contemptuous of your efforts."

"His pride will not let
him openly acknowledge the growing darkness,
nor anyone's efforts against it. Yet I believe he knows it is there: witness
his desperation to forge an alliance with Imladris. But such an alliance must
be his own creation, else he will have none of it."

Nodding understanding,
Elrond was secretly thrilled to hear Legolas drop his title and address him
only by his given name once more. He dared not remark upon it, lest the Elf
revert to the old, stilted formality.

"I have been offering
Thranduil support since long before you were born," he pointed out. "You and
I need not bond in order for Mirkwood to have the support your father craves."

"You do not understand
how he sees such things." Legolas leaned forward, desperate to be heard. "Treaties
can be broken, willing support can be stopped, and then Thranduil's people
would suffer as well as his pride. I say again that nothing less than a bond
uniting our two houses will reassure him that this alliance will not fail."

"So I must take you in
a loveless bond to reassure your father that I will not shatter the treaty
between us. Does that not seem extreme to you?"

"It seems a way to protect
Mirkwood, to look after her people," Legolas argued earnestly. "They are important
to me, Elrond, and I believe that I can best serve them in this way."

"You would do well to
remember that Mirkwood will eventually pass away, as will all of Middle-earth,"
the Elf-lord said gently. "You and I, however, will not. We will be tied to
each other for all eternity if we do what you suggest. Does that not matter
to you?"

"Is it that you do not
want me?" Legolas demanded, looking as if he were also losing patience with
this argument. "Am I lacking in some way you have not yet revealed? Given
a little time to come to know you, I am certain that I could learn to want
your touch."

"Could you? Yes, I'm sure
that given time you could learn to endure just about anything... except another
six weeks in your father's dungeons." Elrond gave a short laugh. "Ah, Legolas,
you could not misunderstand me more, were you to deliberately try. I am not
certain, even now, that you are not doing so." Rising, he turned toward the
terrace. "The snow has stopped falling. Come, walk with me a little."

Legolas followed as he
was bidden. They walked together out onto the terrace and from there out into
the garden Elrond had tended with exquisite care for many years. A cold moon
was trying to peer out from scattered clouds, while Elf-song wafted from somewhere
in the darkness. Pausing beside a snow-laden rose bush, Elrond shook the heavy
white blanket from its branches.

"Even now, in the dead
of winter, when all other life around it is sleeping, this rose tries to bud.
It's bloom will know only frost and freezing for its efforts, but still, it
will try." Turning to Legolas he said, "I think you are very much like this
rose - so willing to throw away your eternity in a loveless bond. You were
made for better things."

"I was made to serve Mirkwood."

"As I was made to serve
Imladris. But Legolas, I have been caught in a sterile marriage in the past,
while you have not. I know whereof I speak, and why you must be rescued from
your own folly. You say that I do not want you; that is not so. From the beginning,
during the fire, I was struck by your courage. Your beauty claimed me next,
and I am caught in your thrall each time I see you. You are beautiful, calm
and courageous when you are not afraid of me and of what I might do to you
to achieve the bonding you say you want. I am attracted enough to you - for
all that I have never desired to mate with a male - that I could make you
mine with very little effort. I have the power to force you, after all, and
you did come here to join with me. But I set love above power, which is why
I will not claim you tonight, and why Thranduil and I will never agree where
my bonding with you is concerned."

Legolas seemed to puzzle
that out for a few minutes as they wandered in the darkness. "Are you saying
that unless I come to care for you, you will not bond with me?"

"Yes, that is exactly
what I mean. A bond between two Elves is meant to be forged out of love, not
obligation. Is that so unbelieveable?
So undesirable?" Elrond moved through the garden, Legolas at his side. "We
will find another way to fulfill the alliance and placate your father."

Legolas considered his
companion's words. "My father will not stand for it. I must return to Mirkwood
and tell him that I have failed."

"But you have not failed.
You are feeling desperation and apprehension,
all wrapped around the matter of my touching you tonight. We must find a way
to overcome that, and at the same time we must serve Mirkwood, you and I."
Pausing on the path, he laid a hand on the Elf's shoulder. "If you cannot
bear my physical
touch, how do you expect to tolerate the mental and emotional touch that would
follow were we to bond?"

"I was unprepared before,"
Legolas protested. "I am not flinching from you now."

"That is because I have
assured you that I will not take you tonight. You now read my intent as nothing
more than friendly solace. We are connecting as new friends, perhaps, as you
sense my caring but no intimate threat and so react to none. However, were
I to do this...." Sliding a hand down Legolas's arm, Elrond captured his hand,
pulled him closer and leaned down until their lips were nearly touching. "If
I were to try and kiss you, what wouold you do then?"

Legolas drew a deep breath.
"I... would let you."

"And I would be kissing
someone whose every muscle was rigid, someone who was merely enduring me."
Elrond held him there for a long moment, letting the Elf feel the strength
of the Elf-lord who held him, the power of his embrace and his potential desire.
"I know that this holds no attraction for you, Legolas. What attraction do
you think your unwillingness holds for me?"

"But you find me beautiful."

Elrond's laugh was bitter.
"I find a winter rose beautiful, and such was my wife. A rainbow and a waterfall
are also beautiful, but out of reach and unsatisfactory for my purposes. I
find my daughter beautiful and her grand-mother, Galadriel, as well. Acknowledging
beauty does not usually lead to intimacy, and it will not in this case."

Releasing Legolas, Elrond
led him back to the main house.

"Together, we shall plan
how to appease your father and win ourselves the time we need."

"This will not work."

"Nonsense. Trust in my
wisdom and give me a few hours to think of a plan."

"As you will, Lord Elrond."
Reclaiming his chair, Legolas settled into it with all the apparent weariness
Elrond felt.

* * *

Staring out at the chill
garden, Elrond let his mind wander over several possible plans. When finally
he had settled on one and turned to sound it out with Legolas, he discovered
the Elf fast asleep where he sat.

[Six weeks in a dungeon,
a hurried trip here with Mithrandir, and upon his arrival he dove into a fire,]
Elrond mused. [All day, he has battled to save new friends, and to say good-bye
to others. And then, tonight, I tried to seduce him. No wonder he sleeps.
His fatigue, at least, is honest.]

Coming to stand beside
the Elf whom he was fast coming to think of as his prince, Elrond bent to
implusively slide his hands beneath Legolas, to lift him into his arms. Legolas
weighed far too little, and Elrond frowned to realize that his fingers wer
encountering ribs with far too little flesh on them for his liking. [He
needs good food, less stress, much rest,] the Elf-lord thought, [and not necessarily
in that order. For now, he needs to rest in a proper bed. If he wakes in my
arms, I will send him to his own chamber. If he doesn't...]

Giving a sigh, Legolas
settled more deeply into the Elf-lord's embrace. His head flopped against
Elrond's shoulder as the older Elf shifted him securely against his chest.
This was no waking sleep; Legolas's eyes were closed tightly against any intrusion
of the night.

Legolas slept on. Elrond
considered the situation for a short moment and then nodded, decision made.
Leaving the small common area, he entered his private bedchamber to deposit
Legolas gently upon his own bed. Large as it was, the bed could certainly
contain an Elf-lord and his erstwhile consort. Tucking Legolas and his robes
beneath the covers, Elrond then blew out the candles, undressed, and slipped
in beside Legolas.

[This brave prince insists
that we must bond,] Elrond reflected. [I think not, but let us see how he
reacts to our sleeping together.]

It had been a very long
time since Elrond had enjoyed the feel of a warm body beside his. Wrapping
his arms around his oblivious bedmate, the Elf-lord tucked Legolas close against
his shoulder, wrapped his arms around him, and made certain Legolas was tucked
in tight. Certain that he would awake if Legolas so much as rolled over, Elrond
let sleep find him as well.